


Eternity

by Lieju



Category: Gaston (Bande Dessinée), Spirou et Fantasio
Genre: Attempted Murder, Horror, M/M, Murder, Possession, Undeath, halloween stuff, messing with summoning ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 17:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8170435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lieju/pseuds/Lieju
Summary: Fantasio is hired as an assistant for the youthful mascot of the Spirou magazine.





	1. Chapter 1

Fantasio steps into the back room.

And stops.

Spirou who should be there waiting for him is nowhere to be seen and Fantasio feels his blood run cold.

 

* * *

 

 

Fantasio looked up from his contract.

"This is a very generous offer."

 

The man behind the desk shrugged. "We have full confidence in your abilities."

 

Fantasio went through it again, wondering just how difficult this Spirou was. He must have been a real diva if they were willing to pay this much to him to work as his assistant.

Fantasio remembered seeing 'Spirou' once, years ago when he was a child.

 

The bellhop had taken part in a festival in the city he had lived in. Of course it wasn't this same 'Spirou', although it was a wonder how they managed to find such similar-looking boys to play the role of the magazine mascot decade after decade.

 

He scanned the contract. "It says part of my job will be to make sure there won't be any 'incidents'."

 

The man smiled. "This is a top-secret piece of information, but I tell you, you look like a trustworthy sort. The thing is, Spirou has this medical condition. Nothing contagious, just a part of your job will be to help him deal with it, and keep it all a secret."

 

"I see."

 

Well, he needed the money...

 

As soon as he had signed his name the paper was snatched away from him and he was ushered away.

"You come in tomorrow and you get to formally meet your new partner."

 

Fantasio almost collided with a dark haired man in glasses who had been standing right behind the door.

"Ah!"

 

"Prunelle?"

 

The man, Prunelle apparently, turned to hold out a file to the man. "Yeh, brought this, it's important."

 

He turned away, and the nervous look that returned to his face told its own story.

 

* * *

 

Fantasio can't believe he lost sight of the bellhop.

The blond reporter curses under his breath, desperately trying to spot the bright red uniform in the crowd.

To no avail.

 

* * *

 

Fantasio was just about to step outside of the building when the man apparently called Prunelle caught up with him again. "Mr Fantasio."

 

"Yes."

 

"So, I hear you'll be working with us starting tomorrow?"

 

Fantasio nodded.

 

The other man laid an arm on his shoulder and gave him a smile. "It'll be fine."

The smile was gone as soon as it had appeared. "Probably," he added, and before Fantasio had time to react, he turned and walked away.

 

* * *

 

Fantasio stops. He has to think, just running around and panicking won't be good.

First, he should try to figure out why Spirou ran away. He hadn't planned for this, had he? Just waiting for the chance to slip away.

 

* * *

 

 

"So, you're Mister Fantasio?"

 

The young boy held out a gloved hand, and the blond shook it.

 

He tried to pinpoint what the odd feeling was. There was something off about the boy.

And when he smiled, Fantasio couldn't help a shiver running down his spine. He looked so doll-like.

It brought in mind those celebrities that had had too many plastic surgeries and were left with smooth, unnatural-looking faces with stiff facial expressions.

 

He suddenly wondered how old this 'Spirou' actually was.

 

Trying not to stare, Fantasio's gaze wandered to the squirrel sitting on the bellboy's shoulder. He had seen the squirrel before in promotional material for the magazine as well as in the comics themselves. Like with the boy, it couldn't have possibly been the same one, but unlike Spirou, this squirrel seemed much more animated and alive.

Fantasio tried to recall the name. "Spip, right?"

 

"Yes." Spirou watched the squirrel jump on his lap and nuzzle his hand. "I have had other Spips before, though."

 

Well that explained it, then.

"So, you must love squirrels,then?"

 

"Oh." Spirou's face contorted into another mirthless smile. "It's not for me. Spip that is."

 

"Oh, okay."

 

"It's for your benefit."

 

Fantasio nodded, somehow suddenly feeling nauseous, not sure why.

 

* * *

 

Fantasio thinks back to where he last saw Spirou, and what his mood, in lack of a better word, was at the time. He had seemed nervous the last few days, and Fantasio asked to postpone this tour, a suggestion that was immediately shot down.

Fantasio hears a scream and dashes to its direction, his mind already coming up with scenarios and images of what he will find.

* * *

 

Fantasio knocked on the mail room door, already wondering about this.

 

Finding out where Mister Prunelle worked had been simple, he had turned out to be an editor working in the very same building Fantasio had encountered him for the first time.

But once he had asked people in the offices where he'd find the man the answers had been evasive. Finally a nervous redhead had whispered to him that the editor was in 'that' room at the moment, and after pointing to the inconspicuous door labeled 'mail room', she quickly slipped away before the blond could ask any further questions.

 

"Mmhuh? Come in."

 

Fantasio took the invitation and stepped in.

The room in question seemed, despite the pile of mail laying in the corner, more like a private room than a part of an office. There were all kinds of objects that were not part of the standard office supplies, including a bowling ball, scattered around the room.

And was that a seagull sitting on top of the filing cabinet?

 

"Oh, it's you." Prunelle remained seated at the desk, presumably due to the black-and-white cat sleeping on his lap. "The new aide for..." he trailed off.

 

"Yes." Fantasio gestured towards the other chair in the room that was mostly hidden under a pile of junk. "May I?"

 

"Oh. Yeh, just dump it on the floor," Prunelle told him.

The editor nevertheless winced when Fantasio did just that.

 

"This room does not _always_ look like this. Sometimes it's even worse. Still, it's not really a part of the office."

The editor stroked the cat on his lap absentmindedly. "But sometimes I just need to, when the work is not particularly hectic... To get away and..."

 

Fantasio was wondering if he should ask about that when Prunelle smiled. "Anyway, nice of you to pop in."

 

"Yes, I have been wondering..."

Fantasio wasn't sure how to direct the conversation to Spirou and what exactly was wrong with him when Prunelle took the initiative.

 

"They didn't tell you, did they?" He sounded horrified.

 

"Tell me what? What's going on?"

 

"Rogntudjuu, what are they thinking? I thought the point of hiring you was to make sure," an odd expression flashed on his face, "that something like _that_ would never happen again. But what good is someone who has no clue what is going on? That's worse than having that thing roam free with no supervision."

 

"What exactly I should know?"

 

Prunelle looked at him and Fantasio wondered if that was pity he saw in his eyes.

"I'll tell you."

* * *

 

 

Fantasio reaches the screaming girl. She doesn't seem hurt, there's no blood...

"Are you okay?" Fantasio asks, looking around, trying to spot the red bellhop outfit. Maybe it wasn't Spirou...

"It was, it was a m-monster!" the girl stutters.

Of course it was. But at least he hasn't hurt anyone. Yet.

"Where did he go?"

 

* * *

 

 

"Are you okay?" Fantasio asked. Spirou had been more expressionless than usual today, and he couldn't help feeling something was horribly wrong.

 

The bellhop turned his mask-like face to him. "Yes."

 

Remembering Prunelle's warnings, Fantasio told him "We should get away from here."

 

He turned to the man, an organizer of this event or something of the like. He really should have paid more attention to that but he had been so worried over Spirou's condition he had neglected his more official duties as an assistant to the mascot of the _Spirou_ -magazine.

"I'm sorry, but we need to call this off."

 

"What? You can't be serious!" the man protested, raising his voice. "Think of all the kids who are waiting to see Spirou!"

 

Nervously, Fantasio glanced at the red-clad boy who had twitched oddly, seemingly as a response to the man's increasingly annoyed attitude. But at the moment he was looking down, petting the squirrel on his lap.

Fantasio ushered the organizer out of the back room and closed the door after him.

 

"Spirou? Are you okay?"

 

The creature that looked like a young boy didn't answer, keeping his unblinking gaze in the rodent on his lap, stroking it with oddly twitchy movements.

 

Fantasio suddenly feared for the squirrel. If the bellhop was going to snap, he'd likely turn on his animal companion first, but at least that would give Fantasio time to-

 

He suddenly realized what Spirou had meant when he had said Spip was there for the benefit of others.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Fantasio steps into the dark alley and is greeted with a pained squeak.

It takes him a while to spot the petite figure huddled in the alley behind a dumpster.

There is another high-pitched scream, and Fantasio can spot the squirrel, clutched in his hand, trying to wiggle free and biting on the pale hand deep enough to draw blood from a normal human.

 

But of course Spirou does not bleed.

He doesn't even seem to notice it, still stroking the brown fur with mechanical movements.

"Spirou!?" Fantasio tries.

 

No response.

 

"Spirou?" he tries again, this time with a softer tone, and the empty soulless eyes look up.

 

"Yes?"

 

"Let him go."

 

There is no comprehension in his eyes.

 

"Spip. You are hurting him."

 

Finally the bellboy seems to notice and lets go. The squirrel takes the chance immediately and runs away, disappearing somewhere amongst the rubbish laying in the alley.

 

Every muscle in Fantasio's body tenses up when the bellhop stands up slowly.

 

He turns his head. "Fantasio?"

 

The blond releases the breath he was holding. "How are you feeling?"

 

Spirou smiles, and for once that smile is reassuring. "I'm fine."

 

Fantasio nods. It's fine. Nothing bad happened.

 

Today.

 


	2. Possession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaston Lagaffe had been the one good thing about this place. Prunelle was determined to bring him back to life.

They didn't care.

 

Prunelle stood in the middle of the mail room, feeling lost.

 

The cat meowed and experimentally brushed against his leg. That shook the editor out of it. The cat must not have been fed. Not since-

 

He felt ill, remembering it.

 

Desperate to have something to take his mind off of it, he opened the supply closet door, trying to find the cat something to eat. After a while, he managed to locate a box of sardines and left it open on the desk, letting the cat and the gull help themselves.

 

He had to get away from there.

 

He nodded at Lebrac, who had been doing something outside the mail room.

 

"Prunelle?"

 

"Yes?"

 

"So," the artist gestured towards the mail room, "When we are gonna get it emptied?"

 

"Get to work!" Prunelle snapped. He left the artist standing middle of the hallway, hoping he wouldn't notice the tears in his eyes.

 

It hadn't even been a week since he had- since _the incident_ , and they were already acting like he had never been there. That they should just silently get rid of everything that reminded them of him and what that monster had done.

Even Lebrac, who Prunelle had thought had been friends with Gaston, was all-too ready to get rid of every memory of the office boy.

 

Prunelle gritted his teeth. Oh, it must have made them _uncomfortable_ , being reminded of that.

 

But he supposed that was the only way you could deal with this messed-up place. Survive here.

By pretending. Pretending he had never worked there, never existed.

 

Gaston Lagaffe had been the only good thing about this place, and now he was gone.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Prunelle pretended to forget, to leave it all behind.

He returned to work, and didn't mention the office boy.

 

But he didn't let anyone touch the mail room, and people stopped asking about it. Apart from that, and how he'd go there once a day to feed the cat and the gull, it seemed like he had returned to his normal life, such as it was.

 

But every night, after everyone had left, he'd walk to the archives, looking for something.

 

He wasn't sure what it was, but the cavernous mess must have held the answer.

To how Spirou had been brought back.

And then, one evening, when he had almost given up for the night, he found it.

 

It was an old worn-out book, and he could barely understand the intricate text. But there it was.

The spell to wake the dead.

He closed the book.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Prunelle sat middle of his living room.

He had moved the furniture out of the way to make room for the circles the ritual demanded, and was now going through the book again.

 

Satisfied the preparations were complete, he set his bloodied sweater in the circle.

He hoped it was enough. He had no body, not that there had been much left.

 

He wondered what they had done with the corpse that had been dragged away from him. There had been no funeral.

 

So all he had was his own blood-soaked shirt.

 

He focused, and began.

 

The first words on the archaic language had barely left his lips when he started to feel the change in the atmosphere.

There was an odd chill in the air. He steeled himself, and continued.

The coldness spread over him, filling his being, his mind.

 

But at that point, he was unable to stop, and he listened to his voice call out to the beyond, oddly detached.

 

When he came to, he was laying on the floor.

He looked around.

No Gaston.

 

Had he really thought it would work? Without even a body?

 

But he felt a bit odd. Prunelle felt like something oddly freezing filled his mind and pushed his consciousness back.

 

He felt numb.

 

And then the feeling was gone.

 

Had it ever really been there?

He stared at the circle drawn in chalk and felt foolish.

 

Gaston wasn't coming back.

 

* * *

 

It was freezing, and Prunelle could feel a suffocating presence around him.

Like he was buried in ice.

 

And his feet were cold, the asphalt icy under his feet.

 

He blinked his blurry eyes, not sure if he was in a dream. That's what it seemed like, he had no control over his body, but he couldn't really care-

Until he tripped in something and his face hit the street.

"Rogntudju!"

He stumbled up, fully awake but confused.

 

He was outside, middle of a dark street, in his pyjamas, without glasses.

It took a while but luckily it turned out he hadn't ended up far from his home, and the door had been left open, so he slipped back in.

Although this was worrying, he had never sleepwalked before.

 

It must have been the stress getting to him.

 

But in some odd way, he felt better.

 

No, not better as such.

 

He felt numb, like he had given up. And the next day he worked through the day as in a daze.

 

And he was so tired. He had barely the energy to change into his pyjamas before he fell on his bed, instantly asleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Prunelle stared at the sleeping office boy, uncertain.

 

There was something very wrong about this. He stood middle of the mail room, afraid to break the silence and wake Gaston up.

Why? Why did he feel like that would be a horrible mistake, that it was best if things stayed like this forever?

 

But the boy stirred, looking tired. "Mmhuh?"

Prunelle did not move. There was a sudden coldness around him. He managed to speak with difficulty. "Gaston?"

 

Gaston stood up, slowly, and looking like he was sleepwalking.

Sleepwalking. That seemed familiar somehow.

"Where am I?" Gaston asked. "I don't..."

 

Prunelle took a step towards him, suddenly afraid for him. "Gaston?"

 

He looked at the editor, unfocused. "It's dark."

 

He stumbled to Prunelle, as in a dream. "There is... something..."

He draped his hands over the editor. He was cold, and fear gripped Prunelle.

"There is something I have to do."

 

* * *

 

Prunelle scratched at the door, increasingly panicked. He had to get in, they'd-

 

But what was it that was so important?

 

He blinked, becoming more and more aware that he was standing outside the offices, desperately trying to get in. It had been important...

 

He tried to hang onto the dream, wondering what it had been.

 

Not that he even could get inside, without his keys.

 

And it had been just a dream.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"You look tired," Lebrac said.

 

"I have had trouble sleeping."

Prunelle rubbed his temples. It was difficult to focus these days...

 

He froze, staring at the creature walking across the office.

The monster wearing the blood-red bellhop uniform.

Spirou.

 

Lebrac spotted his gaze, but before the artist could do anything, the editor had closed the distance between them and lunged at the bellhop, pushing him to the ground.

The petite childlike form fell easily, and he didn't even struggle when Prunelle wrapped his fingers around his throat and squeezed.

 

The redhead simply stared at him, expressionless and doll-like.

Prunelle didn't really even know if he wished for him to fight back, to do him the same he had done to Gaston-

 

The odd coldness spread over the editor again and he let go, suddenly unsure.

And he didn't resist when he was pulled away from the undead bellboy.

 

"Prunelle!" Lebrac struggled to keep him on his feet, and was joined by Jef.

 

The editor blinked, trying to focus on the white-haired man who had accompanied Spirou and was now poking at his forehead.

 

"Possessed," he mumbled. "Get him somewhere where he can lay down, we need to deal with this."

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Hm, to be honest, it's impressive you managed to pull _something_ through the veil," the man who had introduced himself as the Count of Champignac said.

 

Prunelle rubbed his head. "It's Gaston?"

 

"Maybe. And at any rate, it's a trapped spirit. It needs to be exorcised."

 

Prunelle stared at the circle drawn again in the middle of his living room floor and shuddered.

"So, what are you going to do? Just open the door to the afterlife and tell the spirit to leave?"

 

He tried to focus on the Count and ignore the silent bellhop who was standing in the corner.

The Count had insistent he'd be there in case something went wrong and the spirit or demon inhabiting the editor would try something.

As if _he_ was the violent monster.

 

The Count finished drawing the circle.

"I'll reopen the rift. At the moment the thing in you is trapped, not able to take full control except occasionally, but equally unable to leave."

 

"So, once it's open it'll go back?"

 

"That's up to you. All I can do is open the door, you need to have the willpower to push it out."

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Prunelle?"

 

The editor stared at the office boy, trying to remember what was wrong.

He tore his gaze away from Gaston and focused on the surrounding mail room. It looked like it always had.

Except now that he actually paid attention, he saw this was not the case.

If he actually tried to focus on objects, they seemed to blur out and disappear, as if in a dream.

 

Gaston collapsed on his desk, and Prunelle hurried to him.

He stopped, hesitating, feeling the coldness radiating from him.

But he laid a hand on his shoulder. "Gaston?"

 

"Mmmh." But he lifted his head. "I feel weird. Tired in a wrong kinda way."

 

"Gaston, can you remember?"

 

He shook his head.

 

"Gaston, you died."

 

"No I didn't, that's silly." But his tone of voice betrayed it did not come as a surprise.

 

"Gaston-"

 

Prunelle stopped, wondering if he should make him remember. How he had accidentally triggered the bellhop's instincts-

 

Gaston looked at him, suddenly seeming like he was perfectly awake.

"I _did_ die, didn't I? What am I gonna do now?"

 

He had never seen him like this, looking so _lost._

Prunelle embraced him.

* * *

 

 

The editor opened his eyes. "Mmhuh?"

 

"How are you feeling?" The Count asked.

 

Prunelle sat up, looking confused but there was no trace of the glassy-eyed look there had been before. "I'm- I'm fine."

 

"The thing is gone?"

 

"Yes. But I'm tired, so..."

 

The Count nodded.

 

* * *

 

 

Prunelle watched the Count and the bellhop leave.

 

Not a moment too soon, as he couldn't keep the spirit subdued anymore, and his mind was pushed back, his brain feeling like cold water was poured on it.

 

Prunelle watched as he raised his hand in front of his eyes, unable to do anything.

And when he opened his mouth, it wasn't him who spoke.

 

"What?" his voice asked.

 

He stared downwards. "I'm Prunelle?"

 

_Gaston?_ Prunelle asked, only able to think the words.

 

However, the spirit inhabiting his body seemed to hear him. "Prunelle? You are..."

 

Prunelle pushed with his mind. _Let me in charge._

 

He could feel the other mind letting him regain some control of his body.

"Gaston, do you know- Do you remember what happened?"

 

"What are you talking about?" Gaston asked, using his voice. "By the way," he removed Prunelle's glasses and squinted his eyes. "Did you know your eyesight is horrible?"

 

_You died._

 

Prunelle could feel the spirit relinquishing control, and he panicked, thinking Gaston had disappeared, before he felt him somewhere in the back of his mind.

_I did._ Gaston admitted.  _And then I was trapped, and then you came to wake me up... How long have I been dead?_

 

"Three weeks."

 

Before Prunelle realized what was going on his body stood up.

"My pets!"

 

Prunelle struggled to regain some control. To no avail.

_Gaston! I have fed them!_

 

The office boy didn't stop. "But they'll worry!"

 

With all his effort, Prunelle managed to get control back long enough to yell "Jacket!", and Gaston stopped middle of the street.

_Your pets won't die in the five minutes it'll take us to get my jacket._

 

Gaston nodded, calming down. "Yeh."

 

* * *

 

 

 

Gaston, once he calmed down, let the editor back in control of his body, and on the bus journey to the office he stayed silent and out of the way.

 

But once they were in the darkened offices, he took control again, and Prunelle let him, tired to argue.

"Kitty!"

 

The cat was scooped up and hugged tightly. "You're okay. It's me, daddy. I'm so sorry I was gone for a while."

 

_Gaston, they don't recognize you._ Prunelle reminded him, afraid he'd get pecked by the gull.

 

"Non-sense."

 

He reached out his hand, and the bird jumped on to it. "See? Animals can tell."

 

_Hm._

 

But that seemed to be true. Or maybe the pets were just confused the editor was acting like this.

 

Prunelle retreated back, letting Gaston have full control. He was happy, and smiling. For now it was enough.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Prunelle reached back to his mind.

 

Gaston's spirit was curled up at the edge of his consciousness, and as if asleep.

Well, that was just as well. He returned to his work.

 

He had no idea what he was going to do.

 

_Prunelle?_

 

"Yes?" The editor glanced around, but no one had seemed to notice him talking to himself.

 

_So, am I gonna live with you from now on?_

 

_I.. suppose?_ Prunelle thought back.

 

_Okay, because I need to get some stuff then._

 

* * *

 

Prunelle opened the door to his apartment.

"So, we'll live here from now on," Gaston told the cat on his arms, and set the animal down. "You'll get used to it."

 

Prunelle watched as the cat gave his apartment a quick check before walking back and rubbing himself on his trouser legs. Gaston reached down to pet the cat but Prunelle wasn't sure which one of them was the one who smiled.

 

But it didn't matter.

 

And it was okay.

 

He was no longer alone.

 


End file.
